iGet a Wake Up Call
by ButterflyRae
Summary: ."Wake up Spencer!" I yell. "Love and potatoes are in the air." "What!" Spencer shouts. "Did they set off the alarm?" "Yes!" says Freddie and starts making fire alarm noises. It's a Valentine's Day edition of Wake Up Spencer. Seddie.


**iGet a Wake Up Call

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_Author's Note_: I realized that the chapter story I've been writing has been seriously lacking in some of the random humor that makes iCarly so amazing. Hopefully this captures it a little bit better . . . Fear not though. The chapter story will be continued. Read & Review!

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It's 3:40 in the morning and I'm standing in the hallway of Bushwell plaza tapping my foot impatiently. Carly fell asleep hours ago and I have not yet been to sleep. Freddork was supposed to meet me here 10 minutes ago for our latest "Wake Up Spencer" segment and I'm getting mad. Finally, he groggily emerges from his apartment clutching a bag of candy hearts and his camera. It's obviously that he's been in bed himself and has had trouble dragging himself up.

"Idiot," I say. We both know that it's not a good idea to sleep on the nights we do these segments (we just aren't as sharp) and yet here the dork is wearing his stupid Galaxy Wars pajamas.

"Really?" I ask, motioning toward them.

"Aw, shut up, Sam," he says. "My mother forced me to go to bed. Something about being bright and shiny for Valentine's day."

"And did she force you to wear those?" I snicker. Freddie just scowls at me.

It is indeed Valentine's day. Or at least the start of it. And given that Spencer's been essentially girlfriendless this year, we've decided to do a holiday edition and see if we can get anything good out of him.

As we step into the apartment, the oven dings.

"What are you making this late?" asks Freddie, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"Just tatter tots," I tell him.

"Yeah, well," he says, "since you've already got them, maybe we should throw a couple at Spencer too."

"What?!" I say defensively, taking them out of the oven and holding the pan to myself. "And waste perfectly good fried, frozen, and reheated potatoes?!"

"It'll just be a few," he says, grabbing a couple and putting them in the front pocket of his stupid pajamas. Before realizing how hot they are. Then he's dancing around like an idiot and I'm laughing.

"Aw," I say, my voice oozing with fake sympathy, "did somebody burn themselves? And won't you're mommy be angry that you got you're pajamas all gweasy weesy?"

I take a couple tatter tots off the pan and shove them in my mouth. They're greasy, salty, and totally worth the burn.

"Let's just do this," Freddie growls at me and I start to laugh at him again.

We head over to Spencer's room and hold our candy hearts at the ready. Freddie points the camera at Spencer and signals, "In 5, 4, 3, 2"

He pushes a button and cues the title sequence for "Wake Up Spencer."

"Hey Guys, it's 3:47 in the morning on February 14th and we're here in the bedroom of Carly's older brother Spencer for a very special holiday edition of 'Wake Up Spencer.' Watch as we wake Spencer up by pelting him with chalky candy hearts."

"And tatter tots," Freddie adds.

We both set off flinging our food items.

"Wake up Spencer!" I yell. "Love and potatoes are in the air."

"What?!" Spencer shouts. "Did they set off the alarm?"

"Yes!" says Freddie and starts making fire alarm noises.

"Quick, Spencer, quick!" I shout. "Get the extinguisher."

And then Spencer is up on his feet frantically scrambling around. It's hilarious but also makes me think that Carly could easily burn in her sleep one of these nights . . .

"Quick!" Freddie shouts. "Before Cupid shoots your pineapple with a zamboni!"

Spencer continues to scramble before pausing and asking groggily how a zamboni could fit in his bow.

"He doesn't have a bow!" I yell. "He pulls his hair back with a double knot!"

"His shampoo smells like tatter tots!" observes Spencer falling on the bed again.

"The tatter tots are meowing!" I laugh, baiting him.

"Try giving them some milk," suggests Spencer.

"They won't drink it!" shouts Freddie, urgently.

"Oh no!" says Spencer, his face contorting as if he is about to cry. "Poor wittle tatter tots."

He falls face forward into his pillow and is asleep again.

"He's asleep again," Freddie, ever the quick one, observers. "Throw more hearts at him!"

I oblige.

"What?!" says Spencer sitting up in bed. "Did Cupid shoot my tatter tots with a pineapple?"

"No," says Freddie, "he couldn't get in the window."

"And the tatter tots moved to Zimbabwe!" I add.

"Good," says Spencer, "now he'll have time to look for Freddie next door."

"Freddie?!" Freddie asks incredulously.

"Yeah," mumbles Spencer, "Cupid needs to run him over with a zamboni."

"Well I'm all for running over Freddie," I laugh, eliciting a push from the dork. "But why would you want to do that?"

Then an evil thought finds its way into my head.

"Do you wuv Fweddie?" I ask.

"No," mumbles Spencer. "It's for Sam."

I practically freeze on the spot.

"We need to run him over for Sam because she loves him."

Freddie drops the camera and I manage to catch it just before it hits the floor.

"Ha ha," I say, realizing that the any trace of humor is gone from my voice at this point and that I just sound awkward and weird. "See what ridiculous things we can get Spencer to say at 4 in the morning?"

"It's not ridiculous," mumbles Spencer.

"Shut up Spencer!" I shout.

"She loves him," Spencer mumbles again. "She totally loves him." I feel a surge of anger toward him and its on.

I shove the camera at Freddie to free up my hands to smoother Spencer with a pillow.

"And we're out!" Freddie recovers, quickly pushing a button, dropping the camera on the bed, and struggling to hold me back from Spencer's sleeping form.

And I'm so worked up that I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I think I'm shouting at the dork to let me go while simultaneously threatening the once-again-sleeping Spencer.

"Sam!" Freddie shouts as I struggle against him. "Sam!"

"WHAT?!" I say, finally pausing and looking at him. I'm breathing hard and in my fury at Spencer all the blood has rushed to my cheeks. He smirks at me and laughs.

"How dare you laugh at me, Fredweir--"

But I never get a chance to finish my thought. Because suddenly my lips are covered by his and he's running his fingers though my hair. It's deeper and more intense than the time we kissed "just to get it over with it," and the thought crosses my mind that Spencer could wake up at any second. But the kiss is so good that I don't even care . . .

Several minutes later we finally pull apart.

"Yum," he smirks, licking a fragment of food that has somehow gotten stuck on the side of his lips. "That was tatterific."

And he laughs as I punch him in the arm.


End file.
